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I shrug, handing over the bag and then setting down two steaming cups of coffee, one for each of us. “What can I say? I like to keep my favorite criminal psychologist well-fed and happy. Never know when I might need that brilliant, slightly unhinged brain of yours. And I figured we could use the caffeine hit.”
I flop into the chair across from her desk, ignoring the plush sofa against the wall. “I think we got a serial this time,” I sigh. “At least I’m pretty sure it’s the same creep flaying all three vics, but Jay says we don’t have enough evidence. He’s right, of course.”
She nods, digging into the bag and dropping back into her desk chair. She spreads a thick layer of cream cheese on each side of the bagel and takes a large bite, savoring it with a satisfied groan. “Okay, what do you know so far?”
I take a sip of my coffee. “Two nights ago, I was called to a crime scene for this guy, Beaumont. I’m fairly certain it’s DB number three from this psycho, which technically makes it a serial.”
“But?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as she takes another bite of bagel.
I smile and grab the other half of the bagel, taking a bite. “But the kill methods differ. Similar tools, eerily similar M.O.”
“And that’s where you’re stuck? The method of killing?”
I nod, swallowing another sip of coffee. “Yeah. I’m sure it’s the same guy, but I can’t prove it. Yet.”
I feel like I’m spinning my wheels, and it’s infuriating to have Jay slow me down with his follow-the-rules approach. That’s why I’ve come to talk to Amelia.
She narrows her eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but have you considered the possibility of two killers, like the Hillside Stranglers? That could explain the similar but not identical kills.”
“That’s possible,” I say, though I don’t believe it. “But it feels like it’s the same guy and I’m just missing something.”
She wipes crumbs from her mouth and says, “No offense, but there’s a lot you’re missing, right? No solid link between the victims, and no link between the crimes except it’s eerily similar, right? That makes it damn near impossible to ID a killer, especially without enough evidence.”
“Gee, thanks.” I scowl at her. She sounds like Jay. I take another bite of my bagel. “You’re no help.”
“Seriously. This is your first serial, right?”
“Yeah. Spree killers, mass shootings, but first serial. Your point?”
She sips her coffee, musing. “My point is, it’s hard to know so early. You said it yourself; you can’t be sure it’s a serial yet, so you need more information. More evidence.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave a hand. “More dead bodies. Jay’s already given me that speech. Doesn’t sound any better coming from you.”
“Sorry, not sorry. What else have you found?”
“Not much. Dug into the latest victim’s past. Other than a clear alcohol problem, no link yet. But I know there’s a link. There has to be.”
Amelia’s gaze feels a little heavy. She’s studying me and ending up on this side of the scrutiny is weird. “You don’t have to be the one who finds the link, Frankie. As long as it’s found. Right?” She takes another bite.
“Save the shrinking for the perps, Ames. Not me.” I did my time at the shrink after Dad’s death and then Mom’s suicide. Mandatory department sessions don’t count.
She tosses her red hair back, laughing in a way that fills her office, which looks nothing like a police precinct with its flowers, plants, diplomas, and photos. She’s done her best to make this grungy corner her own.
“You’re as interesting, if not more, than the perps you make me study. Your need for justice combined with your trauma is a case study on its own. The only reason it’s not one is because you’re a cop, not a serial killer.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “Can we get back to the dick-decimating serial killer, please?”
Amelia’s lips twitch. “Possible serial killer,” she corrects with a gleam in her eyes. “And yes, but it doesn’t sound like you have much to share.”
“True,” I admit. “But I was hoping you had some insight.” I share my thoughts on the sexual assault angle.
“Possible, but you’d find some allegations in their past, right?”
“Nothing yet, I’m still digging.”
“Keep at it. My door’s always open. For digging into killers’ minds or dinner and drinks. Like friends.”
“How about tonight?” I could use a few hours of downtime.
